AMENDS: MISSING SCENE 1
by Patcat
Summary: My take


AMENDS: MISSING SCENE 1

Detective Robert Goren was an expert at controlling his emotions. As a child, not betraying his emotions frequently meant the difference between trying to sleep in a warm bed and huddling in a cold street basement. His legendary outbursts were nearly always carefully calculated strategies designed to break witnesses, reveal motives, and crack cases. He readily admitted that in the six months leading to his mother's death his emotions were not under control at all times or even most of the time. His pain and anger were wild and unfocused, and led to his wrapping his hands around Mark Ford Brady's neck, but after that and his last, brutally revealing conversation with his mother, Bobby discovered that there was no need for him to control his emotions because they disappeared. He felt nothing—no anger, no grief—just nothing. He moved through his mother's funeral and all that surrounded it like a robot, quietly thanking people, moving from one person and function to another, and signing cards of thanks and documents of death.

Most people, if they commented on his demeanor at all, complimented Bobby on his calm exterior. Only Alex recognized his shell shocked condition and reached out to him. "You know," she said softly as she sat next to him on an overstuffed couch near his mother's casket in the funeral home the eve of the funeral. "You can let go…No one would blame you. And the place is pretty empty right now."

Bobby stared up at the casket surrounded by flowers. "I…I…just don't feel anything," he confessed finally. "It's…it's like everything is gone…I just don't have anything left."

"I can understand that," Alex said sympathetically. "You've lost her in so many ways for so many years. And you had to deal with so much with her last illness."

Bobby considered her great understanding for a moment. "Of course," he thought. "She knows about loss."

Alex offered to help him in any way that she could after the funeral. Bobby pointed out politely that there wasn't much to do and he had to find some way of filling several weeks of leave. He was pleased that he wasn't so self-absorbed that he treated her badly. "After I get back from leave," Bobby thought. "I'll treat her really well…I will be there…"

He spent the first days after the funeral dealing with the residue left by his mother's death at Carmel Ridge. In truth, he spent more time saying goodbye to the patients and staff than dealing with his mother's pitifully few belongings and the blessedly brief paperwork. He took up an old Army friend's offer and visited him in his upstate home, but Bobby cut the visit short when he sensed the awkwardness rising between his friend, whom he barely recognized, and himself. He returned to his apartment and was in good shape until he got inside. He saw his badge and binder on the counter where he'd abandoned them and was glad that he remembered to lock away his gun. It was the dead plant that did him in. The plant appeared in his mother's room at some point in the last year—he believed it may have come from one of her nurses. His mother tended it carefully until the cancer's steady invasion made it difficult for her. One evening she impulsively entrusted it to Bobby, insisting that he take and care for it. Somehow, in spite of the fact he usually killed plants within days, he managed to keep it alive until the combination of the Brady case and his mother's last days swallowed his life. The sight of the shriveled leaves and the skeleton like stalks in the dusty dirt struck Bobby like a heavy blow to his stomach, and he crumbled to the floor.

He scarcely registered the ring of his phone. He knew it wasn't Alex, the only person he'd consider talking to at the moment. He dazedly raised his head and realized with a jolt that it was the middle of the night. Any call at that hour meant very bad news. He lumbered up from the floor, his body protesting the time it spent on the hard tile. His cell phone rang, and Bobby knew it was Alex before he saw the displayed number.

Bobby reflected on these things as he watched two cops warmly greet Patrick Copa. One embraced Copa before they entered the Quinn home. Bobby felt a pang of regret that he would never experience that kind of easy friendship with other cops. He looked away and hoped that Alex wasn't suffering too much from her connection with him. Alex hadn't wanted Bobby to come in the night of Kevin Quinn's murder; her phone call was a warning. But Bobby ignored that warning and set out on the path that led to him standing in his dress blues outside a murdered cop's house and assuming the role of the NYPD's leading pariah.

Copa's attack didn't surprise Bobby; Bobby would've been more surprised if Copa hadn't struck at him. Bobby revealed that Copa had left his partner for a quickee with his girlfriend and lied about recognizing that partner's killer. Bobby thought he could deal with that anger, and even the anger of the Chief of Detectives, as long as he knew he had the support of Alex Eames and Captain Danny Ross.

Bobby knew the boy belonged in some way to Quinn's family, and the thought the kid was Quinn's son popped quickly into his mind. He thought only of not hurting the boy, and was completely defenseless when the kid's casual words stabbed Bobby in the gut. As the boy rolled away from him and Bobby stared bleakly at the ground, Bobby heard Mike Logan's voice.

"Hey, kid, I'm sorry about your Dad."

Bobby turned and saw Logan, remarkably well turned out in his dress blues, dropping to one knee by the boy.

The boy hovered on his skateboard. "Did…did you know my Dad?"

"No…I didn't…Too bad for me…Everyone says he was a great guy and a great cop," Logan answered. Bobby thought he saw Logan shoot a quick glance at him. "I work with a detective who knew him…A great cop who thinks a lot of him…"

"I'm really proud of my Dad," the boy said fiercely.

"You should be," Logan answered firmly.

"I don't understand how that detective…the whack job…would let the guy who killed my Dad get away," the boy said staring at his skateboard.

Bobby struggled not to wince as the kid twisted the knife in his gut.

Logan took off his cap. "I can tell you something about that…if you want."

The boy looked at Logan with a mix of fear and interest. "What…what can you tell me?"

"I know that detective." Bobby thought Logan spoke just loudly enough that not only the boy but Bobby could hear his words. "The whack job." Bobby felt his heart sink. He wasn't particularly close to Logan, but he liked and respected him. And Bobby thought Logan might be one of the cops who might understand why he had to challenge Copa's account and the arrest of Jimmy San. "This detective," Logan continued. "He's unusual…but he's not a whack job…He didn't let your Dad's killer go…If this detective let this guy go, this guy did not kill your Dad. If this guy was the killer, this detective would've gotten his confession."

"But," the boy chewed his lip in confusion. "The Chief…My Dad's partner identified this guy…"

"Well," Logan said thoughtfully. "I…I think…Everybody really wants to solve this case…They want to do it for you and your Mom. So your Dad's partner…He just made a mistake…"

The boy shifted back and forth on his skateboard. "The detective…the detective on my Dad's case…You think…he'll find the right guy?"

Logan tentatively placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I know this detective. He's the best. I've seen him in action. He saved my life once…and he did it without his gun. He talked four guys into giving up…."

The impressed boy looked at Logan with wide eyes.

"This detective is one of the best. His partner is one of the best…They will find the guy who killed your Dad…I promise you that," Logan declared.

"My Mom…She's really upset…"

"Yea…but she's hurt…a lot of people are hurt…and they want to do the right thing and…" Confused, Logan stopped.

Bobby had stealthily inched close as Logan and the boy talked. "Sometimes," Bobby said, looking down at Logan with gratitude. "People trying to do the right thing sometimes do the wrong thing. I know," Bobby said in response to the boy's confused look. "That doesn't make any sense. You might understand when you get older. What you need to remember right now is that a lot of people want to help you and your Mom because they know your Dad was a good man and a good cop. And that he loved you."

"Yea," the boy said after a moment. "I…I think I can understand that." His face screwed up for a moment, and Bobby and Logan feared the boy might cry. "I…I'm going to miss him," the boy said. "He…he…I love him a lot."

"Of course you do," Logan said, and Bobby nodded.

The boy stepped on his skateboard. "He was a good cop?"

"Yes," Bobby and Logan said together.

"Thanks," the boy said and skated off.

Logan stood. "Thanks for rescuing me, Goren. " He brushed off his knees. "I had no idea what to say to him at the end.

Bobby twisted his cap in his hands.

"I'm not going in…My name still has a lot of black marks against it," Logan said. "I don't blame you for not going in. No need to subject yourself to the idiots."

"Or subject them to me," Bobby said softly. "I go in there…It'd hurt someone…" He continued turning the cap in his hands. "Uh…you didn't have to do that, Logan…"

Logan steadily gazed at Bobby. "Yea…yea I did," he said softly. "The kid asked the question…He deserved an answer…The truth…"

"You didn't give him the whole truth," Bobby said in an equally soft voice.

"I figured," Logan shrugged. "He's dealing with enough without knowing his Dad's partner abandoned his father and lied about the killer. I won't apologize for that."

"What about promising him that the "whack job" detective would find his Dad's killer?" Bobby asked guardedly.

Logan continued to look steadily at Bobby. "Like I told the kid…I know that detective…I know what he can do."

Bobby tightly gripped his cap. "You have an awfully high opinion of this detective, Logan…And you saved his life as much as he saved yours."

"Maybe," Logan admitted. "But I think I have the evidence to back up my opinion."

They stood in a not uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

"Thank you," Bobby said hesitantly. "For coming to the funeral."

"You're welcome," Logan replied. "You doing ok?"

"Not bad…Getting back to work…It helps…" Bobby turned his cap in his hands.

"Eames ok? This is gotta be rough for her," Logan said sympathetically.

"She…she's doing ok…She's tough…But I'm afraid it might get worse before it gets better…"

"You've got a great partnership," Logan said. "Hang on to it." He smiled wryly. "I know what it's like not to have that."

Several car doors slammed shut near them.

"Procession's about to start," Logan said. "Better get ready. You look sharp in those blues, Goren…You belong in them….You and Eames are good cops…Good people." He put on his cap and turned to go.

"Logan," Bobby said in a tightly controlled voice. "You look good too…The uniform…You belong in it too…And having a good cop…man…like you think well of me…It means a lot…"

Logan turned and studied Bobby. "Well," he said. "We "whack jobs" have to stick together…And I'm honored to be in that category with you, Goren."

Bobby watched Logan walk to his car. As he waited for Alex, he carefully rubbed his shield. Maybe, Bobby thought, the uniform deserved him, and he deserved the uniform.

END


End file.
